A Time For Second Chances
by TheShamyFan123
Summary: A final showdown between Sherlock & Moriarty leaves Sherlock in a coma that he may never awaken from. His comatose mind remembers a story that John once told him about second chances. This leads to Sherlock reliving his life, correcting mistakes, and making discoveries he didn't make the first time around. Eventual Sherlolly and John/Sherlock friendship.


A.N/ The part about Molly and Sherlock's first meeting was loosely taken from another Sherlock fic of mine "3 Doctor's & A Detective" Read on

He remembered a conversation he had once had with John Watson. He had asked him about his experience with the army. A continuous theme occurred in all of Watson's stories, the occurring theme that those who died begged for one more chance. The doctor had tried to soothe their fear but prevailed when they took their last, heart wrenching breaths. "One more chance, oh God if I could do it all over," John had said many times. Sherlock had shrugged it off as sentimental babble. It seemed pointless to him to ever dream of getting a second chance, correcting all the mistakes you've ever made.

This all changed the day Sherlock Holmes almost died. Sure, he had almost died many times in his thirty some years, but this time was different. The final showdown between the consulting detective and the consulting criminal almost proved fatal for both involved. In the end, Moriarty was dead and Sherlock's own life was hanging on a thread. The struggle had caused enough damage to put him into a coma. A coma that the doctors were afraid he would never wake up from.

Molly Hooper sat by Sherlock's bed side, her hand laced on top of his. John Watson and his pregnant wife rest on a bench overlooking a window. John is running his hands over his face slowly, you can see the bruises and cuts on the bits of skin not covered by clothing. Mary is rubbing her stomach and alternating between looking at an exhausted Mrs. Hudson and at a very lifeless looking Sherlock.

But Sherlock cannot see any of this, all Sherlock could see was darkness. He felt cold and alone. The earlier events playing over and over in his head. He had been on the roof top of St. Bart's again, meeting James Moriarty. The events that led to the explosion were fuzzy, but he could remember the pain. Fire searing into his flesh before slipping off into nothingness. Looking around him, nothing but darkness, he began to panic. He kept chanting, "One more chance, it's all I ask for!"

A soft voice broke his pleas. He recognized who the voice belonged to almost immediately. Molly Hooper's words sounded distant, but he could hear her clearly, "Sherlock, you're going to wake up. You're going to get through this," he could hear her voice break in pain, "people wake up from coma's all the time."

'_Coma,'_ he said to himself. Following the sound of Molly's voice, things began to get brighter. Thinking he had found his salvation, he began to pick up speed. But when he reached the end of the tunnel he seemed to be running, Molly's voice stopped. Before him was a hospital hallway. Not just any hospital hallway, but the hallway of St. Bart's.

'_This can't be right, it was destroyed,' _he squinted at the sudden brightness that filled the room. It looked as though there was no damage done to the hospital at all. He heard the sound of someone rushing behind him. It killed him to admit it, but the sight of a younger Greg Lestrade confused him. This is exactly how Lestrade had looked the first day Sherlock had met him. He still had some patches of brunette hair poking through and he was a bit thinner. He held out a hand to Sherlock and Sherlock took it hesitantly.

"Greg Lestrade, Scotland Yard," he said, introducing himself.

"Yes, I know who you are," Sherlock answered, arching a brow.

"Of course you do, Mycroft said you were good at figuring people out. It's nice to meet you…Sherlock is it?"

Stunned, "yes."

"Well come on, follow me down to the morgue. The head pathologist seems to think that there was no foul play involved, I seem to think that she is an idiot."

Sherlock's face tugged into a smile, knowing what was going to happen next. As they walked, Lestrade talked and Sherlock ignored him completely. _'So, I'm in a coma, and now what? I am reliving my life inside of my mind…..second chance indeed,_' he stopped thinking to nod at whatever Lestrade was saying before quickly ignoring him again, _'this could prove to be most interesting.'_

As they entered the morgue they were greeted by an impatient, tall blonde woman who looked utterly repulsed by their arrival.

"Can I help you?" she snapped.

"Yes," Lestrade answered, flashing a badge at her, "we're here about the drowning victim."

"Who is he?" she pointed a long, bony finger in Sherlock's direction.

"He is Sherlock Holmes. He is a graduate chemist and is highly skilled in the art of deduction."

"Deduction?" she cocked her head to the side, "look I don't have time for this. I've done the autopsy myself, he drowned. No foul play."

"Actually," a small voice came from behind them, "I disagree."

Sherlock knew the moment he would lay eyes on Molly Hooper for the first time was coming, but somehow he still felt surprised when she made her presence known.

'_Play along,'_ he told himself, _'don't change anything you said that day.'_ "And who are you?" Sherlock inquired, trying to keep the amusement from his voice.

"Molly….Molly Hooper."

"And she's not been here long enough to have an opinion!" screeched the blonde.

"But, Anna, it's obvious with the bruises on his body that there was a struggle."

"No! That's been explained. The wife had attempted to prevent him from falling into the pool."

"Hmm, wrong," piped Sherlock, obviously reveling in knowing exactly where everything was going.

"Excuse me?"

"I said wrong. Lestrade, you were right to suspect foul play. Arrest the wife. She shoved him head first into the pool, cracked his skull on the concrete and made sure enough water filled his lungs to make it look like a drowning."

"Right," he said gruffly, taking out his mobile and exiting the room, Anna, Molly's superior, was following after him shouting insults.

That had left Molly and Sherlock alone for the first time. She tried not to look him in the eye as she started cleaning the lab equipment. Before leaving himself, Sherlock turned on his heel to stand directly in front of Molly Hooper.

"Ms. Hooper..." he paused, "I'm sorry, it's Dr. Hooper, isn't it?"

"How'd you know?"

He began typing on his phone, just as he had that day, "I make it a point to notice things not seen by others. And also," he presented his mobile to her eyes, "I just looked you up on "The Google"."

She blushed slightly and took a step back from him. "Well, I suppose I will be seeing you around..I'm sorry? Didn't catch your name."

He laughed slightly, _'If you knew what was in store for you.'_

"Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes."

"Nice to meet you Mr. Holmes. If you'll excuse me, I have a meeting."

Near the door, Sherlock cast a last gaze at her over his shoulder, "Don't listen to her by the way."

"I'm sorry?"

"Your superior. She's an idiot. You have every right to voice your opinion."

"Thank you."

When Sherlock stepped back into the hallway, everything went dark again. He began to wander around in the darkness, searching for the next burst of light to appear so he could continue on his mental adventure.

**_*Outside Sherlock's Mind*_**

Molly felt her eyes begin to droop as she continued to hold Sherlock's hand. Everyone else had gone for the night, leaving her alone with the comatose man before her. In her exhaustion, she could have sworn she saw a small smile flash upon Sherlock's face. She held onto that hope as she slumped back in her chair and gave into sleep.


End file.
